Chapter Eight 2

“I like rice,” I replied.

You are a dolt.

“I recall your admiration for rice that night when we had some served with flame-roasted green squash and those spicy peppers.”

I had eaten more than my share that night. I smiled and peeked through my braids to see him standing at the edge of the spring, his back to me. My mouth went dry. His ass was within touching distance. Firm and high, with a small beauty mark resembling a wild pear. My finger was just about to touch the mark when he stepped down into the warm waters. I jerked my finger back.

“Kenton, you must get in. This is…well, it is marvelous.” He sighed as he sank down into the bubbling water until only his shoulders and head remained dry. “I know this is a luxury we should not be taking, but the horses are spent and—”

“Life is short,” I murmured, standing as if possessed and shedding my clothes. Each inch of pale green skin that was exposed grew warm, either from the steam or shyness, I could not say. Perhaps both?

His head fell back to rest on the rounded stone lip as I wiggled out of my damp underclothes. My skin rose in gooseflesh as his sight landed on me and never wavered. My cock began to fill as he moved slowly, easing around in the water to face me.

“Kenton…” He seemed lost as to what to say.

“Tezen says that all the time.” I held my hands in front of my genitals, my yearning for him rampaging over my timidity. “We…I’m not sure if you…there are so many other things that take precedence that…is this wrong? Is it uncaring of us to think of our passions instead of our people? Please, tell me that it is not selfish.”

“It is not selfish,” he softly replied, his gaze moving down from my face to my hips and to my toes. When it returned, I saw the fire in his eyes, felt the want in his veins. His desire and mine burned like a fire moving through a dry wood. “I do not think you possess a single self-centered bone in your beautiful body. You are one of the most altruistic men I have ever met. It is one of a thousand things that pulls me to you.”

I could not stop the smile that broke free. “I am pulled to you as well. Would you help me…” I stammered a bit, for what I was about to ask was highly intimate. Doing so among my people was considered an erotic and bonding act. “Would you help me unbraid and wash my hair?”

He blinked as if taken aback. “I…yes, of course. I would love to help you unbraid your hair and wash it. Come sit here with me.”

He offered me a wet hand. I took it, letting my other hand drop so that he could see all of me. His eyes never left my face as he guided me into the water. It was hot enough to make me gasp slightly when it hit my balls, but then, once I sank down into it, the heat was glorious. I sat beside him, his thigh and mine touching, and sunk down until my nose and eyes were all that could be seen. Beirach grinned, plucking a floating braid from the pool to untie the thin cord that held the plait in place. I rose, water dripping from my chin, and moved to face him, eager to watch as he undid the tight pleaches.

“I am honored that you chose me,” Beirach whispered as plait after plait fell free. I sighed over and over, my eyelids growing heavy, my body vibrating with hot waves of need and want each time the back of his fingers skimmed my cheek or bare shoulder. I was so hard, it ached. “I know what this means to your people when they choose the person to undo their braids.”

The final plait fell open, my white hair now wet, free, and warm on my back.

I opened my sluggish eyes. “I want you to be the man who braids my hair.”

He shuddered before brushing his lips over mine. I moved closer as one strong arm encircled me, my hair undone, my mouth moving under his. Seeking, tasting, and exploring. His tongue touched my lower lip. I opened for him wantonly. He swept in. The kiss was deep, wet, and powerful. His lips tasted of pumpkin ale, tart and heady. I dipped in for a longer taste as I angled myself over his thigh, sliding my leg betwixt his, and felt his rigid prick brush mine. A whimper floated out of me as his fingers moved to my face. He tipped my head. I licked into his mouth as I rolled my hips experimentally. My cock rubbed over his. He grunted. The thin tethers that had held me back snapped like kindling wood.

“I want you,” I panted between one sweet kiss and another. I stroked his rough cheek, his beard rough on my fingertips. “I wish to know your love this night. If you do not wish to share yourself with me, then please forgive me forward—”

He stole a kiss, a hungry one, slick and wet, as he ran his hands up my sides to lever me out of the water. His mouth slid over my chin to my throat, where he laved the hollow between my collarbones and his hands slipped over my hips to cradle my ass. My cock throbbed unmercifully. I sighed at the pleasure his lips brought and hissed at the tug of his teeth as they found a pine-colored nipple. He clasped me to him, his grip on my ass tightening, as he suckled wantonly on one tight bud before moving to the other. He moved lower. My prick rested under his whiskery chin. The rub of short auburn whiskers on the head now freed from my foreskin made me whimper shamelessly.

“You are delicious,” he murmured into my belly as he hoisted me up further, so far that I had to place my knees on the wet, warm stones around the lip of the hot springs. “Never have I tasted flesh so sweet. Your skin rivals the meat of a fresh summer peach warm from the sun.”

I arched back, giving him access to my navel and then to my needy prick. He tongued at the slit. I cried out at the sensation. He held me tightly, safely, his fingertips resting on the crack of my ass as he licked at my cockhead. My eyes drifted closed. I let myself drift on the sounds of the water bubbling, the scent of the minerals on the moist air, and the pleasure of being in his arms.

“Would you spend in my mouth?” His thick voice drifted up to me. I opened my eyes and lowered my chin to see my cock resting on his lower lip, the blue in his eyes swallowed up by his pupils. He massaged my ass, pulling a low moan from me as he waited, his tongue darting out to gather each droplet that appeared.

“Yes,” I gasped, and he made a sound much like the hungry sand pumas that paced their cages in the Renedith menagerie. I clung to his head, carding my fingers into the dark auburn locks as he swallowed me down. A cry ripped from my core. My hips flexed. He choked, eyes watering slightly. I tried to pull back, but he held me in place with strong hands kneading my ass. “My release is…I cannot hold…”

My orgasm washed over me with the force of a spring storm. It was a good thing he held me so I didn’t fall back into the hot water. My fingers dug into his thick hair, my hips pumping firmly or I would have toppled. He moaned as I emptied down his throat. The tremors lasted forever it seemed, my cock pulsing strongly until finally, thankfully, I floated down from the stars. Beirach stared up at me with a mouthful of cock.

Words failed me, so I eased out from between his lips, took a seat on his thighs, and cupped his face.

“You taste divine. More delicious than the richest yellow clover honey or mulled wine. Sweeter than butter cakes or sugared pudding.”

I laughed and placed my mouth over his, eager to taste my spend on his tongue. Sweet was not the word I would have used, but if he found my essence pleasing, then I was happy. Truly, I was more than happy. I was joyous. I sucked on his tongue as he settled me on his lap, long strong fingers still massaging my ass. I rolled my hips. His stiff prick slid up and down my belly under the burbling water.

“Such a lovely man,” I whispered between soft tastes of his mouth. He began to rut against me, his cock thick and hot. With a tender kiss on his lips, I rose up to settle myself with his shaft resting under my balls. The fat head skimmed my hole. We both moaned. “Would you…will you…” I fumbled over my request. “I would like…”

“Tell me what it is you wish from me, Kenton, and I shall move the Witherhorn range to see your wishes granted.” He nipped at my throat as his prick moved back and forth over my hole.

“I would have you inside me.” I thought to add more to my plea. To let my fears of our possible ends spill out of me, but I held my concerns. Why sour this moment with trepidation and anxiety? If this were to be our only night together as lovers, then let it be a joyous one free from worry. Emptying my heart of all the darkness that awaited us, I poured everything that I was, that I yearned for, that I felt for him into a long, ravenous kiss.

“Are you sure? You’re a delicate woodland royal and I am a lumbering, half-bred brute.”

“You are no brute. You are kind, loving, loyal, and gentle. I would have no other for my lover, now or in the future.”

His blue eyes, darkened with passion, softened at the corners. “Then let us become one, my beautiful bosk orchid.”

I smiled at the reference, recalling the lithe, glorious pale green flowers that grew in the richest parts of the marshes. Being in his arms made me feel as if I could rival the most stunning of blooms.

He moved with grace and dexterity, lifting me from the pool, his hands under my ass. I clung to him like a vine, my hands clasping behind his thick neck. He stepped up and out of the water, his teeth nipping along my jaw, then carried me to one of the stone benches. There he placed me on the ground, snapped open his clean shirt, and dried me with it.

I purred like a barn cat lazing in a sunbeam. He rubbed at my hair, smiling as I peeked through the material at him. I moved into his arms, rising to my toes to steal a kiss. The ends of my hair tickled my buttocks, water dripping from them to run down the back of my thighs. I snickered at the sensation. He lifted his head with a questioning look on his face.

“The water tickles the back of my knee,” I informed him.

“Ah, I have not done my duty as a proper manservant, have I?” He gave me a quick peck on the tip of the nose before going to his knees. “Here, my lord, place your tiny foot on the bench so that I might dry your fair skin before it wrinkles like a grape left on the vine too long.”

I laughed aloud as I did as he asked. He ran the shirt over my calf and along the back of my thigh, catching the droplets on one leg then the other. His playfulness made me feel light of heart, giddy, and uncaring of the dark world outside this ramshackle hut.

“Oh, one has escaped me,” he proclaimed, ducking under my leg to capture a stray drop. His mouth moved sinfully over my skin, his tongue flicking out to catch the droplet, then slowly licking a hot path up to my buttock. I rolled my hips open more, and he slid around me, his mouth now on my ass. I gasped at the first touch of his tongue to my entrance. He licked a wide path over my hole. My breath caught as he fondled my balls, my cock thickening with each swipe he made. “You taste like divinity.”

“More, please, more.” I bent over, one foot still resting on the damp stone bench. He rubbed his cheek over my hole, his whiskers rough on the tender flesh, and I fell forward. Hands splayed on the bench, hips rocking back to offer my ass to him wholly.

“Gladly,” he mumbled before pressing the tip of his tongue into me, over and over, the firm tip pulling long groans from me. He feasted like a man starved, using his tongue and a finger in ways that I never knew could be used. His finger slid into me with ease, finding a spot hidden away inside that made my knees buckle when he rubbed it. Words were impossible now, or nearly so. His grip on my stones combined with his finger up my ass left me a drooling, needy dullard.

“Ah, touch me there…yes! Do it again!” I yelled, my fingertips trying to find purchase on a moist stone. Just as my balls began to draw up, he sat back on his heels, eased his spittle covered finger from me, and released my balls. My cock throbbed like an infected toe. “No, no, do not stop!”

“This is just the beginning, Kenton.” He dropped a dozen kisses on my trembling cheeks before rising. His cock brushed my hole. “Stay there. I need to find something.”

I felt foolish standing here with my cock and balls dangling, my ass slick with spit, and my face flushed with want. Beirach returned quickly, running a hand over my back as he stood behind me.

“Yes, yes, I want you,” I panted like a pack mule after scaling the Witherhorn.

“And you shall have me,” he vowed as he pulled the cork out of something. I looked over my shoulder to see him pouring a liberal amount of what smelled like pink lotus oil on his fingers and prick. The aroma was floral and musky. We’d been using it on Eldar’s dark bruises to ease the discomfort. He worked it along his shaft as I watched, spellbound. “Now let me control things, Kenton. I know your blood is hot, but this must be a slow joining. This is your first time, and I wish it to be enjoyable.”

“It will be,” I whispered, letting my head drop down between my locked arms. I stared at my cock dripping onto the floor. “Please hurry…I’m half mad with want for you.”

“I know, my love.” He bent over me, kissed the nape of my neck at the same time he pushed two fingers into me. I keened in pleasure, arching my back to get those fingers deeper. He let me ride his fingers for a moment before tugging them free to tap at my slippery pucker with his cock. Low, eager sounds fell out of me. When his cockhead began to stretch me open, I stiffened. He rubbed my back. “Breathe, my darling, yes, that’s it. Let your body adjust. You are doing so well.”

I squeezed my eyes shut until the fat head was in, and then I exhaled shakily, my legs trembling. Pushing in bit by bit, he paused often to kiss my shoulder blade, my neck, and my ears. He ran his fingers down my spine, then rubbed a finger pad around where we were now joined. When I would find my breath, he would ease in further until, after what seemed like a lifetime, he was fully seated. My cock had withered like a spent bloom but was now rigid again. I could barely draw a breath. He filled me so completely I could only huff out short bursts of air.

“Easy now, my sweet, easy. We will go slow,” he assured me as he began to pump his hips, easing out and sliding back in, his balls bouncing off mine. “There, yes, that is better now, yes?”

I nodded. “Yes, much better,” I agreed. The burn was still present, for his cock was fat and long, but the fullness was now less pain and more pleasure. “Much better…”

“Good, my love, good.” He stroked my sides as he moved with more speed. The faster he thrust, the thicker his prick grew. “Let me have your prick.” He reached around to find my swinging cock. I rose to my toes, pushed back, and let him stroke and fuck me into oblivion. “Come for me, Kenton.”

The hot splash of his spend deep inside me toppled me over the precipice yet again. I shot all over his hand, ropes of spend coating his fingers as he pressed gently into me one last time with a growl that made my cock spurt yet again.

“Are you…did I harm you?” he asked while stroking my prick as his shaft throbbed inside me. “You yelped…”

“Cries…of pleasure,” I huffed, thoroughly winded, my body shaking gently.

He dropped a kiss to my shoulder, eased out, and swept me into his arms. I curled into his hairy chest, my sight on his face as he carried me to the bubbling spring and stepped back into the waters. The smell of minerals, lotus oil, and sex washed over me before we lowered ourselves into the heat. I sighed when the waters flowed over my tender hole. He found my lips. I opened for him, eager to taste him.

“We’ll rest here for a bit to give you time to recover,” he whispered, his hands moving over me to find tight muscles and rubbing them into submission. He stole a hundred kisses while working soap into my hair. I rested on his thighs, limp as seaweed, and basked in his tender ministrations. He took such care of me that I felt revered. “Your hair is so lovely. It reminds me of the gossamer vines that grow in the windswept caves of the Black Sand Isles.”

“Tell me of those islands. I’ve never been. Have you seen a Sandrayan?” I asked around a yawn that made my jaw crack.

“Only once, when I took a ship to the isles in search of a mystic who was rumored to be an old knight of the human realms,” he said, his voice as soothing as tea on a cold night. I tipped my head up so he could dribble handfuls of water over my soapy hair.

Eyes closed, his skin warm and flush to mine, I had nowhere else I would rather be. If the world fell into the vast neverlands of the goddess Danubia’s domain, I would die a happy man.

“Tell me of the Sandrayans and the old human knight. I wish to hear everything about you,” I said and got a small peck on the cheek.

“My life has been marked by moments of great despair as well as great joys. Loving you is one that has brought me great bliss.” He dropped his chin on my shoulder. “I do love you, Kenton, my brave, beautiful bosk orchid.”

“And I love you, Beirach, my strong, handsome protector.” We shared a long, deep kiss. “Now, fill this night of ours with tales of powerful Sandrayans, human knights, and sweet whispers of devotion.”

So he did. We spent hours soaking, with me in his embrace and dozing off as he relayed tales of his past. He spoke of his wife with great affection. Sleepily, I thought to ask about the flute he carried but never played, though I did not wish to bring up something that might make him sad. These few solitary hours were ours. I was greedy, yes, and perhaps a trifle jealous. I wished to keep him for myself for as long as I could. Which, it turned out, was not as long as I would have liked.

Midway through his tale of a port town brothel he had mistakenly wandered into, the door to the bath hut opened. Wind with small flakes of snow blew in as an old, bent woman no taller than Bissori stamped in.

“Elves,” she said in way of greeting before peeling off her ratty cloak to reveal she was nude. Her belly was as round as a plum, her breasts resting on her tummy. “Been working with the hogs.”

I hurried to scramble off Beirach’s comfortable lap, my cheeks hotter than the springs we lingered in. She padded to the edge and slid down into the smooth rock divot, mud smears on her wrinkled face. “Mind if I use your soap?”

“No, please do, good lady,” Beirach said as he passed over the bar of soap we had lathered with. He shot me a look as she began scrubbing her hairy armpits. “We were just finishing up.”

She held up the soap. He shook his head. “A gift,” Beirach said as we left the spring in haste, dressing as quickly as we could and exiting the steam hut. The night air was brisk, the tiny bits of snow melting as soon as they hit the muddy ground.

We made our way to Agathe’s home, giggling about the old woman who smelled of swine, and walked in to find everyone sound asleep. Tezen snored away atop the mantle, her bed an old matchbox, her blanket a washcloth, and her pillow a tuffet of black wool.

Agathe and Bissori were curled around each other on the fancy settee, his face buried in her breasts, her leg tossed over his hip.

“I wish to check on Eldar,” I whispered to Beirach and got a nod. I cracked the door and stepped inside. A low fire was banked in the small fireplace. The room was cramped but comfortable, the furnishings rather above what one would expect in such a modest village. My brother shuffled under the thick quilt, his eyes opening to find me hovering above him like a watchful mother hen. I tucked several long plaits behind one of his ears.

“Your braids are free,” he said, his voice thick with sleep. I ran my hand over my damp hair. He studied me closely, pushing up to rest on one bent arm. Air hissed through his teeth at the movement. “Why have you allowed the archdruid to see you with your hair down?”

“I asked him to unbraid them,” I told him flatly. His eyes rounded. “Do not think to lecture me. I know that is to be reserved for the night of a wedding, but I may never see the day that Beirach and I are joined.” His anger melted away as my words sank in. “I love him deeply. Say what you will about the shortness of time we have known each other or that he is half-human. None of that matters to me. I love him. I wish to spend whatever days I have left at his side calling him beloved. Yes, he undid my braids. And yes, he will braid my hair in the morning. That is the way of things. You may spit like a cat or you may accept my choices about my body and my heart.”

The corner of his mouth pulled up. “Truly, you are not the weeping lad who I left behind at the castle. You have great courage, little brother. And have chosen well. I pray that we will celebrate your vows with the rest of our family soon.”

“I pray that as well.” I sat beside him, made him drink cold tea with bits of moldy flower petals, and then pulled the covers up to his chin. He drifted off quickly. I tossed a few sticks into the fire before joining Beirach in his cousin’s bed chamber. It was not much different from the one Eldar rested in, other than having a larger bed and an ornate wardrobe with silver etchings and words I had never seen before.

“Sandrayan,” Beirach said as I ran my fingers over the flowing letters carved into the dark wood. “Bissori travels across the realm buying and trading things from pelts to furnishings to armor and weaponry. That wardrobe came from the Black Sand Isles. The writing is that of their people. They use melted silver for adornment of their bodies as well as the things they bring into their homes.”

“It’s so ethereal,” I whispered as he came up behind me, his thick arms circling my middle. “Eldar was awake,” I confided when he began kissing my neck. “He asked why my hair was down. I told him I gave you permission to unbraid it.”

The kissing stalled. “Will I have to face your elder brother in a duel over your honor come morning?”

“No.” I snickered as I melted back into him. “Eldar could not battle his way out of damp vellum. Also, I told him that I chose you to be the man to braid my hair this night and for all the nights to come.”

“Mm, I do love the sound of that.” He held me tight, his lips tugging gently on the pointed tip of my ear. “May I braid it for you now before we go to bed?”

“Yes, I would love that.” He led me to the fire where we sat on a thick russet pelt of a massive beast. He sat behind me, legs crossed. I rested on my heels, eyes closed, his touch as gentle as a flicker lighting on a branch.

“I look forward to braiding your hair for many years,” he told me as a fat log snapped into the narrow fireplace.

“I shall hold you to your pledge.”

“And I shall hold you to me every night.”

When we crawled into bed, a soft one with covers smelling of pine, I curled into his side. The first night of what I prayed would be thousands to come held in his arms.